#AmericanWriters
The highway is full of big cars going nowhere fast And folks is smoking anything that… Some people wrap their lies around… And you sit wondering
We die, Welcoming Bluebeards to our darke… Stranglers to our outstretched nec… Stranglers, who neither care nor care to know that
She came home running back to the mothering blackness deep in the smothering blackness white tears icicle gold plains of… She came home running
When love is a shimmering curtain Before a door of chance That leads to a world in question Wherein the macabrous dance Of bones that rattle in silence
I keep on dying again. Veins collapse, opening like the Small fists of sleeping Children. Memory of old tombs,
When I think about myself, I almost laugh myself to death, My life has been one great big jok… A dance that’s walked A song that’s spoke,
Your hands easy weight, teasing the bees hived in my hair, your smile at th… slope of my cheek. On the occasion, you press
Lying, thinking Last night How to find my soul a home Where water is not thirsty And bread loaf is not stone
Give me your hand Make room for me to lead and follow you beyond this rage of poetry.
I note the obvious differences in the human family. Some of us are serious, some thrive on comedy. Some declare their lives are lived
A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing
Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with seraphim. The city
My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
Your smile, delicate rumor of peace. Deafening revolutions nestle in th… cleavage of your breasts